


6 for $24

by Defcon



Series: Barry in Panties [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+1, Barry POV, Barry in panties, Car Sex, Crossdressing, Gender or Sex Swap, Jock Straps, Light BDSM, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Mirrors, PWP, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sweet Sex, len pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defcon/pseuds/Defcon
Summary: Five times Barry and Len had sex while Barry wore panties +  one time Len wore something for Barry. (Some tags may only apply to certain chapters).





	1. Lacy Cheeky

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 5+1 of PWP scenes featuring the panties Barry bought in My Angel is the Centerfold. The parts progress roughly chronologically, but aren't direct follow-ups to one another, so if a certain chapter has a kink you aren't into you can skip it. Except for Barry being in women's underwear, that's in all the stories except for the +1. 
> 
> All six parts are finished, but I'll be doing final edits on each one and uploading it as a new chapter every couple of days for the next week or so.

1.

Len was kissing a line down Barry’s sternum, toward the sensitive skin that dipped down just below the ribs and above the abdomen, when he suddenly paused and laid his head down over Barry’s heartbeat. 

Barry’d had one hand on Len’s shoulder, the other on the back of his neck, so he brought that one up and rubbed absently over the other man’s shaved head. Prickles in one direction, velvet in the other. 

“Problem?” Barry asked.

“Hmmm, no. Just thinking.” Len lifted his head so he could look up at Barry contemplatively, chin propped on the younger man’s chest.

“Well, not that I’m complaining,” Barry rolled his body up into Len’s, relishing the rasp and drag of lace panties against cotton boxers, “but I feel like you were headed somewhere interesting just now.”

Len snorted, then grabbed Barry around his trim waist and hoisted him further up the bed. He dropped his head, dipped his tongue into Barry’s belly button, dragged his teeth in teasing bites over the taut skin just above the lacy blue waistband. He licked a long line up the middle of the speedster’s abs, then blew cool air all the way back down, clearly enjoying the little goosebumps it raised.

When he'd been staring at them for a bit _too_ long Barry cupped his face in both hands, smiling at Len's startled look and directing the older man to meet his eyes.

“Hey. Distracted guy. Will you tell me what’s up?” Barry wasn't mad, just curious.

Len closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture. “Sorry, I just keep thinking about that story you told me earlier about the girl from the spank magazine.”

Barry’s huffed laugh was equal parts amusement and chagrin. “‘Spank magazine,’ gross. What about the story?”

“I’m just trying to work out whether the fantasy is that you’re the slut being used for some creep’s pleasure, or that you’re the pure, untouchable girl everybody wants to worship.” 

Barry hummed thoughtfully and let his head fall back against the pillows while he considered. “I guess it’s a little bit of both,” then, like an afterthought, “but you’re not a creep.”

“I am,” Len’s head was hovering over Barry’s erection, his breath ghosting over Barry through the lace. Len splayed one hand over Barry’s hip, and with the knuckles of the other teased at the soft skin of the speedster’s inner thigh. “And you’re an angel.”

Barry’s breath hitched at both the sensation and the words, and he had to arch into where Len was now pressing his face to the crotch of his lingerie, mouthing over Barry’s shaft through the fabric. 

“Hah,” Barry panted, “Len. Jesus, is that what this is abou-- oh!” He broke off as Len slid the panties down just a bit, enough to lick over the head of Barry’s cock with a wide, flat tongue. “Nn, don’t stop, god that’s-- the lace is so--”

“--Scratchy? Think of how my poor tongue feels,” Len teased.

Barry grinned, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he moved the older man’s head out of the way just enough to push the damn panties down around his thighs himself. “Please. You love it.”

Len wasted no time gripping the base of Barry’s erection and lowering his mouth over the head, slurping a bit, teasing the sensitive underside with the pointy tip of his tongue. As he worked, slowly sliding down further, taking more into his mouth, he gripped and tugged at Barry’s underwear with his other hand. 

Barry hummed and shuddered, loving the contrast between the wet heat of Len’s mouth and the tug of the elastic, the scratch and irritation as the damp lace dragged on skin and caught on his leg hair. 

By the time Len was kissing his own fist Barry was groaning and vibrating in a way that alternately pitched his voice higher and lower than it usually was. Len could probably feel Barry’s moans in his chest.

“God, Len! I’m close, so close, just--” Barry was always careful not to put his hands on Len’s head when they did this, knew that triggered feelings of panic the older man couldn’t entirely control, so instead he threw his arms up over his head as he came, fists clenching and his torso arching up off of the bed as he keened and spilled in Len’s mouth. 

Barry fell back against the pillows, panting, and Len wiped his mouth off on the back of his forearm then crawled up to sprawl next to his boyfriend. The speedster felt flushed and gorgeous, despite the fact that he was bright red and his hair was probably sticking in every direction.

“Feeling properly worshipped?” Len asked, smiling and nosing at Barry’s neck.

“Definitely. Though you know...” when Barry trailed off Len pulled back, a question in his eyes. “What we do in here, or on your bike, or that one time in the back of that police cruiser, that’s one thing. That’s playing around. But when it comes to this relationship you know nobody’s up on any pedestals, right?”

Len rolled his eyes and tried to pull back, but Barry caught him around the neck and brought their foreheads together.

“I want to be here, Len,” Barry said. “With you. You're my first choice.” 

“Barry--” the older man’s voice was raspy either with emotion or because of the dick sucking, but just in case it was the former Barry pressed their mouths together to cut the other man off. He didn't want Len to feel like he had to say anything he wasn’t ready to yet.

They kissed like that, twined together, for a few more lazy minutes -- perfectly content with closed mouths and shared breaths and bee-stung lips.

Finally Barry drew back, smirking devilishly when Len followed after him. He pushed his right hand into Len’s boxers and wrapped it around the man’s semi-hard cock.

“So, about that slut thing.”


	2. Pink Boyshorts

2.

The pink boyshorts were tacky, and garish, and they made Len _furiously aroused_.

Made of chintzy, bubblegum pink satin, they were trimmed in hot pink and cutesy-wootsy in a way Len generally detested. They were an insult to good taste, made him feel like Humbert Humbert, and he wanted to come all over them while Barry was tied up and whining-- 

He’d considered giving them to Mick to burn. Unfortunately, in addition to Barry’s likely issues with a literal airing of their dirty laundry, that would mean that he couldn’t have sex with Barry while Barry was wearing them anymore. And as much as he hated those pink panties he loved that sex. 

It was weird and freeing, even if afterward he felt like he needed to be hidden away from polite society.

Barry of course found it hilarious, and mostly went laughingly along with whatever perverted thing Len got in his mind to do when the pink pair showed up. God Len was so lucky the Flash was secretly as bent as he was. Also a loving and attentive boyfriend, but that was beside the point.

Except lately Barry had been pushing it -- he’d made a big show of getting out of bed one morning last week, making sure Len watched him pull open a certain drawer and draw that pink pair of pants slowly, teasingly up his legs and over his firm rump, knowing there was no time for anything then, that Len would have to stew all day getting more annoyed and horny. 

By the time they’d both made it back to Barry’s apartment that night (Barry after a long patrol, Len after a frustrating day dealing with the contractors working on the Rogues’ Bar), Len hadn’t even let his boyfriend get a word out before he’d griped him by the biceps, kissed him hard and pushed him backwards into the room. 

Len had fucked his boyfriend like a madman, on top of a low bookshelf, with Barry’s legs splayed out nearly into the splits, his sweaty back sticking and then sliding on the window that looked right out over the high street as Len gripped his knees and used them as leverage to drive into him. Neither man had bothered to take the underwear off, so Len had just pushed it to one side and let the sight and feel of his slick fingers and then his cock thrusting against the satin stoke the fire in his belly.

Afterward they laid on the floor next to the shelf, enjoying the cool feel of the parquet against their fevered skin. Barry had promised that they would negotiate the terms of their next pink panty encounter ahead of time.

So Len was shocked when one family dinner night (one of the first that he had actually been invited to), just after pulling up to the curb outside of Detective West’s house, Barry twisted around in the passenger seat to grab something out of the back of the car and revealed a strip of pink where the waist of his jeans gapped a little.

“You wore the pink...?”

“Huh?” Barry twisted back around, holding the salad they’d brought as a paltry contribution to the usual spread.

Len adjusted himself through his slacks and asked, “What was the plan, Barry? For me to suffer through dinner hiding an erection from your family? Or did you figure you’d give me a peek and I’d somehow be able to contain myself all evening knowing my slutty girl was just waiting for me to take her home and give it to her hard?”

Barry let out a startled moan at Len’s words, his pupils blowing wide. “Len, what--?”

“Park. Now. Take us.” Len growled, enjoying how it made Barry’s eyes go half-lidded.

“They’re-- but they’re expecting us--”

“We’re 15 minutes early, that’s more than enough time for what I’ve got in mind.”

In a rush of sound and color they were suddenly at the edge of Conway Park, the neighborhood park Barry would’ve gone to growing up. It was late enough in the year that at almost 7 it was already inky twilight, and they were the only ones within sight.

Len wrapped a hand around Barry’s wrist and led him to the squat, cinderblock building that housed the restroom. Once inside he crowded Barry into a stall, locked the door behind them, then spun Barry so that he was forced to throw his hands up to keep his face from hitting the stall door. Len reached around, roughly undid Barry’s fly and shoved his jeans down so that they pooled around his calves. He kicked the speedster’s feet into a wider stance and then gripped Barry’s hips, tugging his ass back to fit snugly against his crotch.

The sight of his hard cock straining against the placket of his pants, already nestled and framed by Barry’s plush cheeks and the pink fabric covering them, had him punching out a groan. 

“I ain’t fuckin’ you kid,” he growled, starting up a slow grind that had Barry’s breath hitching, “Not in this dirty bathroom without a condom or lube.”

Len undid his own pants and pushed them and his boxer-briefs down just far enough so he could pull his dick out, let it slap wetly against Barry’s lower back and leave a trail of shiny precome right between those maddening dimples.

“So I’m going to hump you like the dog you clearly want me to be, and come all over those slutty panties, and then we’ll just pull your jeans back up and go right ahead to family dinner.”

Barry moaned weakly and rubbed his ass against Len’s front, braced his hands on the stall door so he could bow his back, lift up onto his tiptoes and drag his crack over the full length of the older man’s cock.

Len couldn’t resist the two firm spanks he gave Barry, the way his dick twitched as the motion made the meat of Barry’s ass jiggle and caused Barry to clench his cheeks into a tighter channel for Len to rut against.

Barry whined and shifted, arching and tilting his hips one way and then the other, clearly trying to get Len’s cock firmer between his cheeks, to get some kind of pressure against his hole, which was probably clenching and fluttering by now. But Len just kept up his slow rocking, hands still holding tight to Barry’s hips, occasionally lifting them up so that he could grind in hard, dirty circles against the juiciest part of Barry’s ass.

“Len!” Barry was shaking and turning red, blush spreading down his neck and sweat pooling in the exposed dip of his spine. “Touch me? Please?”

“I shouldn’t,” Len grit out between clenched teeth, but he picked up his pace, rocked forward and used his thumbs to pull Barry’s cheeks apart and finally give the kid the stimulation he’d been craving.

“AH! Nnnn god, so good Len,” Barry’s arms trembled once and then gave out, elbows bending so that his right cheek pressed to the door between his spread palms. He was panting, open mouthed, giving Len a pleading look, “Please touch me babe-- I’m sorry, I’ll only be your slut when we’re at home-- yes!”

Len kept thrusting, nearing his climax, but he wrapped one arm around Barry’s chest and dropped the other to grip and slide over the silky material trapping Barry’s cock, which was growing tacky with slickness. Len didn’t reach inside, just gripped the younger man and jacked him roughly with the silk bunching and squelching.

“You’re so wet for me, Barry,” Len leaned close, murmuring in his ear, “You gonna come for me? Add one more load to those panties you’ll be sitting in all night?”

With an agonized shout Barry shot off in his underwear, dick twitching and jerking under Len’s grip. Barry was still shaking, little shivers of vibrations running all over his body, as Len finally came, one hand fisting his erection and pointing it so that the spurts of come landed over the underwear rather than on Barry’s back or thighs. 

As he came down from his orgasm and took stock of their surroundings, Len slowly slumped against Barry and buried his face into his sweater, between his boyfriend’s shoulder blades. Barry, meanwhile, snickered helplessly and raised one hand to pat awkwardly at Len’s flank.

“It’s okay, Lenny. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“We just fucked in a public restroom,” Len groaned, but that only made Barry laugh even harder. 

“Come on, you sex weirdo,” Barry said, “Help me get out of these and clean up and maybe we can still be only five minutes late to dinner.”

Len huffed and leaned back, quickly doing up his own pants so that he could help Barry gingerly step out of his shoes and jeans, remove the underwear, then pull his pants back up. Barry hissed a little, still a bit too sensitive for the raw scratch of going commando in denim, but Len was reasonably sure that was just the kind of overstimulation the kid craved. ‘Sex weirdo,’ indeed.

“You know,” Barry said, after they had finished and were walking out of the restroom, “That was technically an accident. After I was late leaving the precinct I was running around trying to get ready as fast as possible.” Barry paused what he was saying to flash them back to the car, and once there Len pulled open the passenger door, shoved the panties into the glovebox, and (after using the hand sanitizer also located in said glovebox and offering it to Barry) picked up the salad. 

They started up the front walkway, and Len said, “I do recall you clattering around while I made the salad you promised we would bring.”

Barry rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder into Len’s. “Right. Well when I got out of the shower I just grabbed a pair of underpants without looking; they must have gotten mixed in with my regular stuff.”

“Hopefully now that you understand how dangerous they are you’ll do a better job of keeping them separate,” Len smirked.

Barry turned to Len and teased, “Be honest: Is the Flash still your nemesis? Or is it the pink panties now?”

“Don’t be silly,” Len said as he leaned over to ring the bell and press a quick kiss to Barry’s temple, “The fact that the Flash controls the panties is what makes them so powerful.”


	3. Black Thong

3.

Cisco and Caitlin weren’t exactly sure how this new meta’s powers worked yet, but they’d tentatively started calling her Contagion (“Get it?” Cisco’d asked, “Con-TAY-gion cause her name is Taylor?”). From all evidence she was able to pass on her traits and skills to people she touched -- a bagger at her local grocery store acquired her brown hair; her thesis advisor was suddenly able to speak and understand Haitian Creole; and Barry?

“Caitlin this bra is too big,” Barry complained, walking into the Cortex in his usual sweats and S.T.A.R. Labs sweater. He held the undergarment out dejectedly, and Caitlin took it back and slipped it into the pocket of her lab coat.

“Sorry Barry, but if this one doesn’t fit none of my other ones will,” Caitlin said.

“What about the locker rooms?” Cisco asked, looking up from his alert algorithm, which was currently searching social media mentions and cameras around the city for Taylor LaCroix. “Maybe a former employee forgot to empty her stuff out?”

Barry zipped off and returned less than a minute later, clutching a simple black sports bra. “I think this will work. It’s meant to be tighter, right?” 

He pulled his sweater off, and Cisco shouted and covered his eyes.

“Dude! Why didn’t you just change in the locker room?”

“Cisco you’ve seen me with my shirt off a hundred times,” Barry said, struggling to get both arms through the bra, which was currently looped over his head and pinning one wrist against his collarbone. 

“UH, totally different! You were a guy then,” Cisco said.

“I’m still a guy!” Barry insisted, his voice (now slightly higher, but with the same timbre) muffled by the fabric of the sweater he was putting back on. Finally he poked his head out and glared at Cisco. “I’m still a guy. Just temporarily biologically a woman.”

Caitlin had done a full examination of him, and with the exception of reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics his vitals were remarkably similar -- same height, nearly the same weight, pulse and blood pressure within his usual range. And of course he still had his speed and all of the usual bio-indicators of the speed force in his cells. 

“You’re right man, sorry,” Cisco said. “It was an instinctual response to suddenly having boobs in my face.”

Caitlin grinned, “Cringing away in fear and horror?”

As Cisco started chasing Caitlin around the room (scooting on his chair, obviously), Barry peered at the computer to see if any hits had come up. 

So far there wasn’t much, but based on his conversations with Taylor’s other victims and his own experience trying to bring her in, she didn’t seem evil. Just scared. Hopefully they would find her soon -- Caitlin thought that the solution to undoing Taylor’s changes would probably have to come from Taylor herself.

In the grand scheme of things it could’ve been worse, but he felt fidgety and awkward, and he kept bumping into things. Cisco and Caitlin assured him his arms weren’t too long for his body, but they _felt_ so long, what even was that? Did women have longer arms?

Anyway, the novelty would be fine for a week, maybe two, but he needed to get back to his usual body. He also needed to stop putting off going home because Len might just show up at the Labs if he didn’t leave soon. When Len heard what happened he’d nearly come over then, but the Rogues’ Bar was in its first week, and Barry knew Len was nervous about rival gangs or police trying to start something.

Barry gathered up his stuff and said his goodbyes to Caitlin and Cisco, then poked his head into Cisco’s workshop to say goodnight to Harry. He and Jessie had been popping over occasionally to test a device they were working on with Cisco and Hartley to establish a communication line between their two earths. 

_'Okay, no more stalling,’_ Barry thought, then raced home to his apartment and entered via the back fire escape. 

The only light was coming from under the door to the bedroom, so he assumed Len was either getting ready for bed or reading. When he slowly pushed the door open and peered in, Barry discovered he was half right -- Len was asleep, propped up in a sitting position with all of the pillows behind his back, dressed in his sleep pants and a soft white t-shirt, an open book resting on his lap.

Barry padded in as quietly as he could, but as soon as the door creaked Len shifted on the bed, his eyes fluttering open.

“Go back to sleep,” Barry whispered.

“Like hell,” Len said, grinning sleepily, “Get over here. You don’t look different at all.”

Barry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fond smile as he trudged over to Len’s side of the bed, held his arms out to his sides, and spun in a slow circle.

“Mmm, definitely the same sweater. Still taller than me. Shoulders a bit more narrow, face a bit rounder.” Len sat up as he made a show of examining Barry. “Are your arms longer?”

“ _Thank you! _Cisco and Caitlin were acting like I was crazy, but look at these things!” He noodled his arms around to illustrate.__

Len stood and wrapped his own arms around Barry’s waist, pulling him in for a quick, reassuring forehead peck. “Too bad it’s not autumn, otherwise we could prop you up in a cornfield, make some extra money from the local farming community.”

Barry laughed, shocked and outraged, and struggled to escape Len’s hold, beating playfully at his chest and wiggling more wildly when his boyfriend held on tight and lifted him up off the ground. “You’re a beast!” Barry shouted. “To think I was going to let you see me naked!” 

At that Len made a considering noise, then promptly set Barry back on his feet. “You know, now that I look at them closely, these are good arms. Maybe the best I’ve ever seen.” 

He spun Barry around and grabbed Barry’s wrists, then wrapped his arms around his waist, forcing Barry to hug himself. Barry laughed and squirmed, snickering helplessly at how ridiculous Len was being. 

“You are so embarrassing,” Barry whispered, his grin stretching as Len pressed small kisses into the back of his neck.

“Nobody would ever believe you,” Len whispered back.

Barry sighed and leaned back against the older man. “That’s probably true,” he conceded. “Today’s been... a lot.”

“Any ideas yet on how we’re going to help you and the others?” Len asked, and Barry was being embraced by Captain Cold in the apartment that they basically shared, but still Len talking about Flash business and saying ‘we’ like he was part of the team made warmth blossom in Barry’s chest. 

“Well, Caitlin has some theories based on her analysis of my blood and speculation about Contagion’s powers, and Cisco’s working on tracking her down.” He turned around in Len’s arms. “But we were talking about getting me naked.”

Len raised both eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with having sex right now? You know I don’t expect anything; as far as I’m concerned this is just an average night with my super-fast scarecrow boyfriend.”

Barry leaned in and pressed his mouth to Len’s, enjoying how the feeling of their smiles pressed together gave way to gentle nips, Len’s tongue searching a bit inside his mouth. He pulled back and said, “I appreciate you asking, and I do know we don’t have to do anything, but I have a surprise for you.”

Barry pushed a bit on Len’s chest until the other man got the hint and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Barry, hands still loosely holding Barry’s hips. 

“You remember that time I was thoughtfully purchasing some underpants to surprise you with and you burst in and ruined everything?” Barry asked, wiggling out of his sweater.

“Sure,” Len said, distracted by Barry’s pale torso, hands already creeping up to slide over Barry’s breasts and tease at his nipples through the fabric of his bra.

“Hah-- that’s good, wow,” Barry breathed, his head dropping forward a little and his hands running shakily down Len’s forearms. 

“Sensitive?” Len asked.

“Mmm,” Barry nodded, “More than usual.” Despite his words (and obvious enjoyment) he gripped Len’s wrists and pulled his hands away. Len held them up for a second to indicate he was being good, then leaned back on them for support, eyeing Barry up and down. Barry pulled the bra over his head and felt a rush of wetness between his legs at the look of helpless lust on Len’s face. 

“The only pair I got that day that I haven’t worn at all is the thong because you were right, it usually looks hilarious on me.”

Barry smirked as Len realized where this was headed, and ran his thumb along the inside of his waistband to tease his boyfriend with a glimpse of the black strap against his hipbone. Len’s eyes were dark, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip, and Barry knew exactly what he wanted from the other man. He pushed the sweatpants down, twisting his hips back and forth teasingly as he did so, then turned around before bending over to pull them off.

“Christ, Barry,” Len’s voice was low and thick as he took in the sight of Barry’s slightly fuller ass and thighs and the thin black strap that met in the small of his back, slipped between his parted cheeks, and disappeared among his wet folds. Barry straightened up, turned and crawled onto Len’s lap, using a hand on Len’s sternum to push the other man flat on his back on the bed.

Barry moaned as he dragged his sensitive mound over Len’s erection, then again as Len’s hands came up to cup and squeeze his ass. Len had his neck craned up so he could take in the sight of Barry rocking on top of him, the speedster’s small tits bouncing, nipples tight. Len slid one hand around, snapping the band of the thong as he did so, and with little preamble pushed the scant fabric of the underwear aside and sunk two curled fingers into Barry’s cunt while rubbing the dry pad of his thumb over Barry’s clit. 

The answering shout and buzz of vibrations shouldn’t have been surprising, but Len still groaned and arched his hips, chasing the pulsations. “Fuck, Barry, you’re so damn sexy,” Len said, clearly turned on by how wet and dripping for him Barry was already.

All it took was a few experimental movements for Barry to pick up exactly how best to move on Len’s fingers, shifting his hips forward and back in small tight circles, loving the almost too-strong jolts of pleasure that came from the other man’s direct stimulation of his clit.

“That’s it Len, just-- Nn--!” Len stroked the inside of Barry’s walls and lunged up to suck a nipple into his mouth as Barry shouted and came, thighs quaking and hot cunt clenching tight around Len’s fingers.

Barry slumped forward a bit, panting, then looked at Len through his wilted bangs. “That was incredible-- you wanna taste me?” 

Len moaned and arched again, nodding and gesturing that Barry should scoot up until he was straddling Len’s head. Barry was no stranger to having his boyfriend’s head between his legs, but he’d always felt awkward approaching from this particular angle, if only because he knew how easy it was to gag. 

That problem was conveniently done away with, so he took a moment to drag his slick vulva over Len’s chin and lips. Len already looked far gone, eyes closed as he breathed deeply, taking in the musky scent of Barry’s arousal. Barry hissed as Len’s nose bumped against his clit, still too sensitive after his orgasm for that kind of touch, but practically gagging for Len’s tongue to get inside him.

Len didn’t disappoint -- he wrapped his arms underneath Barry’s thighs so he could pull him in even tighter, then with a flat tongue licked a long, hot line from Barry’s taint up through the slickness and to the top of his pussy. Barry shook and bowed over Len’s head, didn’t clutch at it, but clenched his fists in the coverlet.

With the point of his tongue Len drew Barry’s labia apart, darting and lapping up the slick and come, before circling teasingly around Barry’s entrance. Just when Barry thought he’d lose his mind from anticipation Len dipped his tongue inside of him. For long minutes Len alternated sweet licks with forceful thrusts that had Barry keening and rocking. 

Len eventually drew back a bit, so just his lips were pressed to Barry’s sensitive opening, then started to moan and hum, letting the vibrations stimulate the pink flesh before kissing it, open mouthed and sloppy. Barry was laughing and moaning breathlessly, sure that he had the most pleasure-dumb, cross-eyed look on his face.

Suddenly Len’s tongue was back inside Barry, undulating and rolling deeper than before until Barry felt a building pressure. It was strange, just this side of wrong, and Barry grit out, “Nnngh, Len, what are you--? I, oh Jesus, feels like I’m gonna--!”

Barry’s hands scrabbled against the sides of Len’s head in a half-aborted gesture of warning just before his boyfriend’s unrelenting stimulation crescendoed in a rush of hot juices. Barry whined, loud, not sure what exactly was happening -- it didn’t feel the same as the orgasm he’d had before, but it was _so good_ and fluttery, and it seemed to just keep going as his floor muscles spasmed uncontrollably. 

Barry was sure he was bright red from the sensations and the hot embarrassment of the lewd slurping noises Len was making. He moved to touch his own clit, shocked at how wet and slick the curls down there had become, just as Len started shuddering and writhing beneath him.

“Hah-- Barry!” Len’s head fell back, mouth shiny and lips swollen and red, open wide as Len fought to catch his breath. “You taste so good, babe, so sweet, I can’t--!”

Barry desperately pulsed two fingertips against his clit as he realized that Len was coming untouched, just from how turned on he was from eating Barry out. Between the sight of Len’s helpless pleasure and the sparking pain of Len’s fingernails digging crescent moons into his thighs, Barry thought he might’ve screamed as his last orgasm hit. His eyes slipped shut and he could barely hear Len’s groans over the rushing in his ears.

When he blinked his eyes open, and his vision finally cleared, Barry pushed himself up to disentangle Len’s arms from his thighs and flop backwards. He didn’t even care that his head was down by Len’s feet. The two just lay like that for a couple of minutes, breathing. 

Barry wasn’t sure who started giggling first, but eventually both of them were laughing, completely exhausted and a little stunned.

\-------

They found Taylor LaCroix two days later in her friend’s graduate laboratory trying to work out a cure on her own. She came along to S.T.A.R. Labs willingly, and eventually they determined a way to reverse the effects of her powers. It wasn’t easy, but it worked on those affected and could be a backup until Taylor figured out how to control her idiosyncratic ability. 

Len may or may not have suggested to her that if she was looking for someone to practice with in the future she should keep Barry in mind.


	4. Red String Bikini

4.

Barry threw his head back and groaned loudly enough that it drowned out the soft _thump_ of impact against the chair. His legs were spread, knees elevated thanks to the pair of strappy heels he was wearing. Except for the shoes he was almost completely naked.

Almost.

 _'Wear these with the red pair and think about me,’_ the note that came with the shoes had read.

So Barry was wearing the heels with a pair of red underwear that was silky over the crotch and had thin, twin straps that ran up over his hipbones. He dragged his fingertips over the fabric straining to contain his length, shivering as he reached the head. He circled it slowly with a thumb, then before he could lose his nerve gave it a vicious pinch. 

“NGH--AH! God!” He squeezed his eyes shut, causing twin tears to track down his cheeks. After a few seconds of involuntary shuddering and squirming, he forced his eyes back open and panted as he resumed the delicate teasing from before. 

It may have taken him a couple of days to work up the nerve to do this, but now that he was doing it he was going to do it right. Not to say that Len _didn’t_ do it right, but there were just some things he couldn’t quite stomach. One of those things being giving Barry the rough treatment that he occasionally craved.

Barry had hinted at it enough times that Len had finally told him point-blank that he couldn’t hurt Barry in a domestic situation, even if Barry was asking for it. Naturally Barry had felt terrible, and Len had felt terrible about making Barry feel terrible, and this was the compromise they’d arrived at. On nights when Len couldn’t be with him anyway, Len could set a scenario and let Barry take care of himself as harshly as he pleased. 

He’d been edging closer to orgasm for the last 30 minutes or so, which was considerable given his usual jerk-first-ask-questions-later approach to this particular activity. Tonight he was taking his time. Appreciating the view. He took a bracing breath, scraped the nails of both hands down his abdomen, then tugged the waistband of his underwear up so that the elastic was taut. The twin straps cut into the sides of his hips, causing the flesh pinched between them to slowly blanch. He propped a knee up and reached beneath his thigh with his other hand to squeeze the base of his dick and hold it flat to his belly so that when he released the band it would hit it in just the right place. 

Barry shook and sobbed at the stinging snap, quickly reaching beneath the red fabric to jack himself roughly. He lurched forward, hunched over with his torso parallel to the ground and his legs spread, every part of him straining toward the release he’d been denying himself. With an agonized groan he forced his hand to slow and dropped his head to rest on one upraised knee. He wanted to come, now, but he needed--

His phone was resting on the small table next to the wingback he was sprawled on, so he quickly snatched it up and hit Len’s speed-dial.

 _“Barry?”_ Len answered immediately, a note of concern in his voice.

“Everything’s--” Barry broke off and panted a bit as he allowed his hand to start picking up speed again -- “I’m fine. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

 _“Oh.”_ How Len made that one exhalation sound as hungry as he did Barry didn’t know, but it was exactly why he’d called. _“Give me a second, I’m just going to take this in the back room.”_

The ‘back room’ was the entire warehouse that abutted the back of the Rogues’ Bar, but Len and Lisa both referred to it that way to hide that the two structures were connected from those not in-the-know. Len’s breaths grew louder as the background noise from the bar slowly died.

 _“Ok, I’m in my office,”_ Len said. _“How far along are you?”_

“Almost there,” Barry grit out, putting the phone on speaker and leaning back so he could balance it on the arm of the chair and get both hands back on himself. He traced the red, raised welts over his abs, relishing the momentary hurt that would be gone without a trace by the time he was finished.

 _“Are you wearing the clamps?”_ Len asked, voice husky.

Barry whimpered and nodded, then remembered Len couldn’t see him and murmured, “Yeah...”

Affixing the clover clamps had been the first thing he’d done, and it felt like everything above his ribcage was numb. Unless of course he actually touched his nipples, as he did then, tentatively, letting out a hiss as they became bright points of pain. 

_“How long have those been on, Barry? Should probably take ‘em off soon.”_

“I know, I just...” Barry trailed off as he pressed his palms flat over his nipples, briefly tamping down their almost-itchy smarting. They felt raw and overstimulated. “S’gonna hurt,” he finished plaintively.

 _“Yep,”_ Len said. Never one to mince words, Barry’s boyfriend. _“But you can handle it. You’ve earned it, right?”_ Barry hummed in agreement and let his eyes slip closed as he basked in Len's praise and the heat in his voice. After a moment he steeled himself and pushed the band of his underwear down beneath his balls so that he could stroke his dick unhindered. 

“C-Count of three,” Barry breathed.

Len groaned, then said, _“Fuck, Barry, you deserve this. Gonna be so good. Wish I could see you right now -- you in my chair? Wearing the red -- **ngh** \--”_

Barry laughed and breathed, “Did your brain just break? Maybe it _was_ good that you banned sexy pictures.”

_“Mmhmm. Three. Two.”_

Barry lost the sound of the ‘one’ as he began moving his right hand desperately over his cock while using the left to remove the clamps. The immediate tingling rush as blood flow was restored to his nipples was _agonizing_ and _perfect_ and his eyes rolled back as he gushed over his knuckles, not stopping the striping motion on his pulsing dick when that, too, became overwhelming. 

By the end he was pretty sure he was gurgling. He slumped down so that his back was resting on the seat of the armchair, and swiped away the last beading drop of come where it clung to the head of his dick. He watched it slowly slide down toward his palm, easily distracted in his post-orgasm haze, then brought his hand to his mouth to lick it off. He could feel his heartbeat in his throbbing nipples, so he pressed the delicate skin on the insides of his forearms against his torso, letting the soft, warm pressure (momentarily) relieve some of the ache in his chest. 

In the background Len was making noises like despite his late start he wasn’t far behind Barry. 

“You gonna come, Lenny?” Barry asked, voice deep and sated.

 _“Hah-- you know how your noises get to me,”_ Len grit out. _“Don't you take those panties off -- I’m going to come home later and make you gimme a repeat performance.”_

The thought of Len actually being in the room to watch Barry torture himself made Barry’s dick twitch. He winced -- it was too soon, even for him. 

“Only if you don’t make me walk anywhere in these shoes,” Barry said. “I fell over twice just trying to get them on.”

Len laughed helplessly at the image, then made a surprised, almost hurt sound as he came. Barry grinned and snuggled back into the chair, enjoying Len’s mumbled curses and groans.

 _“Dammit, Barry, that was gonna be a good one,”_ Len grumbled.

“A- _huh_ ,” Barry said, kicking off one of his shoes, “Sounded pretty good on my end.”


	5. Sensible Cotton Briefs

5.

With an angry huff Len slammed the receiver back on the pay phone hook, then ran his hands over his head. He took a deep breath and called up a placid look before turning around, conscious of the fact that he was fully visible from the windows of the diner adjacent to the gas station he was standing in front of.

The small bell over the diner’s door tinkled far too merrily for his liking as he entered and made his way to the last booth. 

“No luck?” Lisa asked, spooning cottage cheese primly onto half of a cantaloupe.

“That pay phone’s still connected, which is a miracle, but nobody’s picking up,” Len answered. “I’ll try again in a bit.”

“I got you the two-egg breakfast,” Lisa said.

_“Lis--”_

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you not hungry and should I not have gotten you anything? I must have missed that the last 5 times you mentioned it.” Lisa cut off a chunk of melon with the side of her spoon and raised it to her mouth while giving Len an arch look. 

Before he could respond the bus boy (apparently serving double-duty as a waiter) returned to their table with a plate of bacon, hash browns and two eggs over easy. It looked delicious. 

“Damn,” Len sighed, picking up his fork and digging in, “We need to save our cash for the gas Lis’. I would’ve been fine.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere in a gas station diner, Lenny. These prices aren’t exactly breaking the bank.”

Len twisted around in the booth to call over to the bus boy and ask him about hot sauce, but was pleasantly surprised to see him already on his way with a bottle in-hand. Leave it to Lisa to take care of him -- she’d been doing it their whole lives, even if he liked to pretend it was the other way around. 

“So,” she said, once the bus boy was out of earshot, “Why don’t you walk me through what happened one last time.”

And there went all of his charitable, big brotherly feelings.

“We’ve _already_ walked through it,” Len said tersely. “And around it and over it and under it, in the last--” he shook his arm out, twisting his wrist so he could check his watch-- “Three hours and fifteen minutes since the car broke down.”

It had been a long, cold walk through the desert-like surroundings to get back to this gas station they recalled passing. Since there was no cell service, and neither of them was particularly keen either to let the other one wait alone with the car or to walk by themself back the way they’d come, they decided to just leave the busted vehicle and head out for gas together. It had taken over two-and-a-half hours to get back, and the sun had only just risen. 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Not my fault ol’ Greased Lightning broke down on us.”

Len looked up at her, letting the bite of eggs and hash browns on his fork droop back down the plate. “I thought you liked that car. You helped pick her out!”

“Yeah, Lenny, when I was _sixteen_. Now I’m an adult -- I have my motorcycle for joyriding, and a nice new Camry for getting around town. You and Mick need to get over your high school shop class macho nonsense and invest in a car made in this century that has air bags and AC and that runs reliably.”

Len snorted, imagining him and Mick shepherding the Rogues into a mini-van. _’Come on, kids! Time to go menace the city!’_. Lisa smiled into her breakfast, obviously thinking of something similar. After a beat Len sighed, and said, “Why do you care about this so much? You don’t even like Barry.”

“That’s not true!” Lisa pouted. “Well, not entirely true. For a do-gooder square who works for the police he’s all right, I guess.”

“You’ve liked some of my previous partners better,” Len pressed.

“Of course,” Lisa replied breezily. “But you haven’t.” Len opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything Lisa plowed on: “Lenny. Last night -- _this morning_ \-- you called me because you had a fight with your boyfriend and asked me if I wanted to go driving in the Salt Flats.”

“So?” Len muttered.

“So, normally when you fight with someone you’re seeing that’s it. One strike. You break it off and go your separate ways. This--” She swept one arm in front of her, encompassing the landscape out the windows with her gesture-- “is some ‘Teen Angel,’ ‘Leader of the Pack,’ ‘It’s My Birthday and I’ll Cry if I Want To’ bullshit. You fled the city on a dramatic impulse like an angsty kid!” 

She huffed a breath, took a bite of melon and cottage cheese, then sipped at her water. “You love Barry. That’s why I care about the fight so much.” 

Len swallowed around the lump in his throat as he watched a car pull into the gas station across the parking lot. “He thought I killed those people,” Len said.

“That’s not what you told me the first time.”

“Yeah, because he kept telling me he knew I was innocent. But all I’ve been thinking about since is that when it came down to it he sided with West. He locked me up.”

“Is it possible he did it because he wanted it to be public knowledge that Captain Cold was in custody, and that if the attacks continued that meant it wasn’t you?” She wasn’t being snide, she was genuinely asking. He thought for a second, shifting uncomfortably.

“I ‘spose.” Len stabbed at one egg yolk, watching it ooze satisfyingly into the hash browns next to it. “How are he and I supposed to work if every time there’s a shadow of a doubt he takes his dad’s side? I thought that was the whole benefit of being with somebody -- they’ve always got your back.”

“Is that really what you want? Someone who doesn’t challenge you on anything?” Lisa asked.

Len sighed. “Of course not. But is it so much to just want, for once, for someone to side with me without having to trick or coerce them into it? Of all people, I’d’ve thought with Barry that my word would be enough.”

Lisa reached across the table and flicked the side of his hand -- not meanly, just in the way they had of reminding each other that there’d always be at least one person they could count on to stick around. Despite his best efforts to stay maudlin, the corner of Len’s mouth twitched up, and he flicked her back.

“Barry had two people who he cares about telling him opposite stories, each of them asking him to put his faith in them,” Lisa said. “I’m not saying he handled it great, but I believe he did what he thought was right -- he always does. It’s part of why he’s so boring,” she teased.

Len laughed and slid down in the booth, covering his face with both hands. “I’m wrong about this, huh? When’d I get so damn sensitive?” 

Lisa kicked his shin under the table. “You are not wrong! Barry should’ve had your back better, and West should’ve apologized when everyone realized you had nothing to do with anything! What, every time they find some John Doe with frostbite on ‘em they’re gonna finger you?”

Len peered out at Lisa from between his hands. “You’re giving me whiplash here, kid. I thought you were defending Barry.”

“I was! And now I’m defending you! It’s possible for two people in an argument to both be right _and_ both be wrong. Now go try him again, will you?”

Len nodded, wiped his mouth and hands off with a wad of paper napkins from the silver dispenser, then stood and headed back to the pay phone.

Like last time, Len dialed Barry, listed to it ring eight times, then waited through Barry’s voicemail message for the tone. However, after his talk with Lisa Len was feeling considerably less petty and much more ashamed about avoiding Barry and skipping town. So this time when the tone played he actually left a message explaining what had happened and where he and Lisa were. 

He replaced the handset on the hook and leaned backwards, bracing his hands on his lower back and groaning at the stretch. Between the night in the holding tank and last night in the desert, he hadn’t slept more than 30 minutes in the past 48 hours. He straightened up, twisted his torso a couple of times to get the crick out of his back, and noticed a dust devil on the horizon. Well that settled that -- they would wait for someone to come get them, even if it had to be Mick instead of Barry. There was no way he’d convince Lis’ to walk back to the car in this heat with the added risk of getting bowled over by a wall of dirt.

Except... he squinted toward the distance. It almost looked like the funnel was moving toward them? Len threw his head back and laughed, wondering if Barry had even bothered to listen to the full message before peeling out of Central. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, trying to dispel the anxiety in his gut. This should be fun. 

The plume of dust trailing the speedster started to settle as he approached the gas station, presumably because he was slowing down. By the time he came even with the telephone where Len was standing he was moving at a slow jog. Barry was in his costume, but even with the mask Len could tell that his face was drawn and his eyes bloodshot. 

“Hey,” Barry said, strain evident in his voice as he opened his arms and started to take the last step that would close the distance between them. Suddenly he seemed to decide better of it, and stopped with a jerk, crossing his arms. They weren’t quite over his chest -- more like he was trying to hug himself. Or shield himself. Len wasn’t sure which was worse.

Len sighed and stepped forward, snaking one arm around Barry’s waist to pull the speedster against his chest and palming the back of Barry’s head over the cowl with his other hand. Barry pressed his face where Len’s shoulder met his neck, nosing aside the collar of his sweater. Barry’s hands clenched in the back of Len’s jacket and his breath was hot and wet over Len’s collar bone.

“I’m so sorry,” Barry whispered, his voice strangled. 

“So am I,” Len murmured, tilting his head to rest it against the side of Barry’s, but Barry pulled back, an incredulous look on his face.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You weren’t involved, which I knew all along, I _knew_ you didn’t do it! I should never have listened to Joe. He kept saying it was for your own good, to remove you from the list of suspects, but I should’ve stood my ground with him. This was all my fault.”

“Disagree. You asked me to talk to the police to give them my alibi, or to give you some kind of proof that it wasn’t me, and I was an asshole about it,” Len said.

“I should never have suspected you in the first place,” Barry shook his head.

“Because I’ve never killed anyone before?” Len tilted his head mockingly, and Barry winced, taking a step back and turning to look out at the mountains far in the distance.

Len closed his eyes and sighed. If he wanted to avoid a fight he needed to not be so _himself_ about this. He reached out and grabbed Barry’s shoulder, rubbing a bit with his thumb. “I shouldn’t have thrown that in your face. But I am who I am. Dating a hero and playing Time Cop doesn’t change that.”

Barry turned his head to look Len directly in the eyes. “Would you kill again? If we weren’t together, if we didn’t have our deal, but all other things being equal?”

It was a genuine question, so Len bit his tongue against a flippant remark about how he’d already killed someone since making their deal -- the Stillwater Gang member in that saloon in Salvation. That had been to protect Martin Stein, though he suspected that would be cold comfort to Barry. It had been over a year ago (before the Oculus), and somehow he’d managed to avoid killing anybody since. But he couldn’t guarantee that if someone he cared about was threatened he wouldn’t do it again. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I hope not to be put in a situation where I have to find out.” Barry ducked his head at the implications. He had confessed to Len how badly he’d wanted to kill Zoom for what he’d done to his father. How if the Time Wraiths hadn’t gotten there first he might have. 

“Tell me what I need to do to earn your forgiveness,” Barry said. The look in his eyes was so earnest Len couldn’t resist messing with him.

“Mmmm, it’s gonna be tough, that’s for sure. Embarrassing, too.”

“Len,” Barry rolled his eyes, “Be serious.”

Len slid his arm around his waist. “Barry, to the extent that you’ve done something that requires forgiveness, we can assume that eventually I’m going to do something as bad or worse. Let’s just wait, do all the math at the time, and whoever is the most guilty can serve penance to make up the deficit.”

“So does that mean you don’t want to end this?” Barry asked, a forced levity in his tone. “Cause in that case I might run back in time and tell my past self to go to bed and get some rest.”

“Running out on you was a dick move,” Len conceded. 

Barry snorted and started tugging him toward the diner.

“It was. Also you need to stop spending time with Cisco, you’re starting to sound like him.”

“For real?” Len smirked.

“Ugghhh, you're the worst,” Barry groaned, dragging his other hand over his face.

“Well you two seem to have kissed and made up,” Lisa said, picking her way toward them around the cracks and potholes in the pavement, her clutch in one hand and the empty gas can in the other.

“Technically just the second one,” Len drawled, reaching out to grab the can, which Lisa relinquished happily. 

“Lisa, hi,” Barry said with more of the Flash in his voice.

“Hey kid,” she said, and Len was pleased at the genuine affection in her demeanor. Maybe his sister and his boyfriend would get along yet. “Not to be that person, but I need a shower and a nice long beauty sleep. Any chance you could run me home? You two can deal with the car on your own, right?” She smiled coquettishly and poked Barry with one manicured nail right over his chest emblem.

“Oh! Uh--” Barry looked over at Len, who nodded because if she didn’t get her way Lis’ was bound to make them all miserable -- “Ok, sure.” He scooped Lisa up in a bridal carry, said, “See you soon!” and was off.

Len couldn’t have been waiting for more than five minutes when the dirt funnel reappeared on the horizon. This time it didn’t abate, and his shout was snatched away on the wind as Barry raced by and picked him up. Next thing he realized he was standing next to the car. After getting his bearings, he turned an annoyed look on the younger man and held up the (still empty) gas can.

“Right!” Barry zipped away, and after ten minutes longer than Len would’ve expected returned with the can full of gas.

“I had to go slower,” Barry said as he pulled open the fuel door and tipped the canister, “Otherwise this might’ve exploded.”

Seemed legit. Len walked behind Barry, pulled his keys out of his pocket, and unlocked and opened the trunk. “The duffel is in here if you want to change,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. Between the two of them there were a surprising number of times that they were caught out and about in their costumes, so they’d started keeping a bag with spare clothes (and snacks for Barry) in the car. 

For a split second the gas can hung suspended in mid-air as Barry Flashed through changing and putting away his uniform, but before the image even solidified in Len’s vision his boyfriend was back holding the can dressed in a pair of jeans and a comfortably-worn grey shirt. 

“Show-off,” Len grumbled. And yet. He turned away slightly to surreptitiously adjust himself because apparently he was still stupidly attracted to his monogamous, live-in boyfriend. R.I.P. Cold. 

“What are you snickering about?” Barry asked, tossing the empty gas can in the trunk and wiping his hands off on a towel. 

“Nothing. Just thought of what Lisa said earlier.”

“About needing a shower and some beauty rest? Same, honestly.”

“The other thing. About kissing and making up...” Len slid closer to Barry and reached around him to slam shut the trunk, bracketing him against the car.

“ _Oh._ Right,” Barry grinned, his eyes slipping shut as their lips met. 

The night before, when Len had been pushing 120 mph on a lonely country highway, Lisa laughing and whooping by his side, he had let his thoughts drift to make-up sex. He’d never had the opportunity to have it before since generally his ‘relationships’ didn’t make it past one major fight. At the time he’d pictured something like what he’d seen in movies -- growling and biting and the ripping of clothes.

Try as he might, all he could seem to do now that he was about to have some was tenderly cup Barry’s neck and jaw so that he could kiss him with everything he’d kept bottled up the previous two days. He hoped that everything he hadn’t yet found it in him to voice might somehow translate in one desperate kiss -- apologies for his past, explanations for why he shied away from soft touches, pleas for Barry not to stop seeing something good in him. When he pulled back both of them were breathless and trembling.

“Come on,” Barry murmured, fumbling for the keys, unlocking the passenger’s side door and crawling into the back seat, then pulling Len in after him. Len slotted in between Barry’s spread legs and hardly gave him a chance to adjust before he was back in his space, pressing their mouths together. Len slid his hands up Barry’s sides and broke away momentarily to tug the soft shirt off over Barry’s head.

Barry grinned and tugged at the hem of Len’s sweater. “I just put that on. You going to at least return the favor?” 

Len reared back as much as he could given the low cab then reached behind to grab the neck of his sweater and tug it over his head. Of course then it got stuck on his head and elbows because he was short on maneuvering room, which caused Barry to get involved, and by the time the sweater was off Len was out of breath and glaring and Barry was giggling with both hands over his mouth.

“That was not my fault,” Barry said, voice muffled.

“Hmm,” Len grumbled. Before Barry could recover Len unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, then grabbed the fabric and yanked them down the younger man’s legs. While he pulled them off (one leg turned inside-out) and flung them into the front seat, Barry refocused on the task at hand, panting shallowly and rubbing one hand slowly back and forth over his collar bone while reaching the other out to splay appreciatively over Len’s chest. 

Len twisted back to capture Barry’s lips once again, slipping his arms underneath Barry’s back to bring him closer so that his legs were splayed over Len’s lap. The spread caused Barry’s erection to strain against the front of the pale blue cotton underwear he had on. Len hummed and ran one palm over Barry’s length, enjoying the softness of the fabric and how it made his boyfriend’s breath hitch. 

“Have I seen these before?” Len murmured distractedly, ducking down to kiss at Barry’s collarbone and nibble at the younger man’s fingers where they still rested. Barry yelped and laughed, drawing his fingers back, then coyly replacing them on Len’s bottom lip. Len licked over each tip, then turned his attention back down Barry’s chest to the panties.

“I’m not sure. You must have at some point, but I don’t really wear them when I’m expecting you to, you know, give me the business.”

Len tilted his head up, both eyebrows raised. Barry laughed. “You know what I mean! They’re comfortable, but they don’t exactly say, ‘Oh baby’.”

Len huffed a laugh against Barry’s chest, then watched, fascinated as the hot exhalation caused his nipples to stiffen. Len leaned down and licked slowly, firmly over one before sucking it into his mouth to lave his tongue against the peaked bud. 

Barry’s eyes slipped closed on a happy sigh, and he swayed forward, leaning his weight against Len and lightly scratching his nails up and down Len’s back. Len suppressed an all-over shiver at the quicksilver feel of the trails being traced from his waistband up to his shoulder blades and then down again. 

“Is there still lube in the glove box?” Barry asked.

Len stopped his suckling to say, “If you put lube in the glove box I never took any out, so I guess there is,” then bit gently at Barry’s other nipple. Before Len knew exactly what had happened he found himself on his back on the bench seat, blue underpants on his face, and Barry straddling him with a toothy grin. 

“Wait a second... Do you have super speed?” Len drawled, slingshotting the panties into the front seat, but Barry just rolled his eyes instead of rising to the bait. Pity -- clearly the other man was in a hurry. Barry worked open Len’s button fly, then dipped a hand into the slit in his boxers to draw out his cock. Len groaned and half sat up, simultaneously trying to arch closer and pull away as Barry immediately started stroking him vigorously.

“Hah-- Barry, give a guy a second to get hard, will you?” Len wrapped a hand around Barry’s to slow down the pace and nosed at Barry’s jaw for a second before capturing his lips in another slow, searing kiss. Barry whimpered and drew his hand away so that Len could wriggle out of his jeans and boxers. 

“Len, need you inside me, you mind if I?” But Barry was already tipping back, tossing the lube aside and twisting his body to brace his shoulders against the back of the seat. He moved two slick, vibrating fingers down behind his balls. Len continued to stroke himself, thumbing at his sensitive slit, but he leaned up on his other elbow so he could watch Barry buck against his own pumping, slightly blurry fingers.

“Christ, Barry,” Len groaned, dropping his hand to squeeze and pull at his sack. Barry keened and arched, his cockhead drooling against his abdomen as he pressed his fingers against his prostate. In another dizzying swoop Barry was back on top of him, bracing his hands on Len’s pecs.

“Fuck me now? Please?” Len steadied his cock with one hand, and with the other reached around to grip and pull one of Barry’s cheeks to the side so that he could bump his red, throbbing tip against Barry’s slick rim. After barely two seconds of his teasing Barry groaned and stopped supporting his weight on his heels, taking Len’s entire length until his ass was snug against Len’s hips. 

“Ah! Barry, just, wait--”

But Barry was already lifting his hips, rocking himself up and down, locked elbows trembling. Len huffed and sat up, bending his knees and tipping Barry back to force the younger man to sit still for a second. He cupped Barry’s chin and forced their eyes to meet. 

“What’s wrong?” Len asked quietly. 

“I--” Barry cut himself off, jaw clenching and eyes squeezing shut. “You implied we weren’t breaking up, but Lisa said--”

Ah. So the two of them had talked in that brief space of time it had taken him to run her home. 

“I don’t get a lot of chances to be with the people I l-love,” Barry said. “And I pretty much only get second chances when I run back in time, and basically everyone has told me I have to stop doing that, so you can’t blame me for being scared.”

Len squeezed Barry’s shoulders and rested their foreheads together. “You plannin’ to leave?” He asked with a small smile. Barry’s breath hitched and he shook his head minutely. “Good. Cause I’m not goin’ anywhere ’till I meet someone even younger and cuter and _more_ devoted to justice than you.”

Barry laughed wetly then pressed a kiss to the tip of Len’s nose.

“Jerk,” he said.

“See? Where am I gonna find someone cuter than you?” Len teased, and Barry flopped back against Len’s knees, but not before Len spotted the pleased/embarrassed blush on his face. 

They sat like that for a moment, Barry doing his rag doll thing and looking out the window, Len still (miraculously) hard inside him.

“I just thought all the Flash and Cold stuff was going to be easier,” Barry said. “Now that we’re ‘us’.”

Len spread his hands over Barry’s ribcage, digging in just a bit at Barry’s ticklish sides and causing the superhero to jerk and snicker and grab at his hands.

“Seriously,” Barry continued, playing idly with Len’s fingers. “I dunno if you noticed, but we’re kind of good at all the normal couple stuff. When we aren’t getting distracted by the clandestine sex and women’s underwear and 2 A.M. pizza dates.”

Len snorted derisively and took a breath to explain to Barry that they were never going to be a ‘normal couple,’ but Barry started counting off on his fingers: “We’ve met each other’s families; our calendars are synced on our phones; when one of us gets home late from work the other one keeps dinner warm; we _live_ together...”

“I still have my own place,” Len said prissily. Barry just looked at him. “Fine, we live together. Now that we’re actually acknowledging that, maybe you’d consider moving into my apartment? It’s bigger.”

Barry hummed and slowly started rocking his hips. “Why don’t we table that for later?”

“Seriously, right back to it?” Len bucked, causing Barry to bounce and cry out in surprised delight. “Just like that? You were almost crying just now--”

“You know I have a lot of emotions!” Barry pushed Len back down with a hand in the middle of his chest. “We’ll talk after this, I promise.”

“That’s what -- _ngh!_ \-- what you always say.” Len’s hands slid to Barry’s trim waist to help steady his up and down motion.

“Feeling used?” Barry teased.

Len made a show of looking at their current position -- him flat on his back, knees still propped up thanks to the cramped backseat, and Barry riding him. “I mean...”

Barry laughed and Len groaned at how it caused his muscles to flutter around Len where he was buried inside of him. Barry leaned down so that they were chest-to-chest and let his elbows rest by Len’s ears, his hands curled up around Len’s head.

“Is this--?” He whispered, suddenly unsure whether Len might need some space.

“It’s fine,” Len reassured, winding his arms low around Barry’s back and rolling his hips up as he sealed their mouths together. Barry whined into the kiss -- with how tightly they were pressed together Len’s cock was dragging directly over his prostate, and Len could feel the slick heat of Barry’s cock rubbing between their bellies. As Len picked up the pace Barry began to slip and shift on top of him from the sweat collecting on their skin.

Len drew back from the kiss after one last nip to Barry’s lower lip. “How’re your balls doing?”

Barry winced, stilling on top of him, then arched his back and lifted up until just the flared head of Len’s cock was still inside him. “Little pinched, not gonna lie.”

“Can you flip us?” Len asked, trailing a hand down Barry’s crack to rub at Barry’s swollen rim where they were still connected.

“L-lazy,” Barry stuttered, voice raspy. He tilted his hips, arching his back further, and shuddered hard when Len slipped a teasing finger tip in next to his cock. In a blink Barry raised himself up off of Len’s cock and propped himself into one corner of the back seat with his right leg bent and leaning against the bench and his left foot propped against the driver’s headrest. Len crawled forward, lifting Barry’s right knee so that his leg was over his shoulder. 

Barry grunted at the stretch then let out a shaky “Yessss” as Len sank back into him. “Come on!” He urged, trying to use his limited leverage to buck against Len. In response Len grabbed his hips and tugged him further down so that Barry would be entirely at his mercy.

“Len fuck me, come on,” Barry tugged him down by the neck to crush their lips together and let his entire body buzz.

“Ah, Barry!” Len pulled away from their kiss as his teeth started to rattle. “F- _fuck_ that’s good.”

Len snapped his hips frantically, bracing one hand against the window behind Barry’s head so he could pump into the younger man without slipping off the leather seat. Barry’s mouth was open, and he was staring up at Len like he was all he’d ever wanted. Len groaned and strained forward, forehead against the side of Barry’s neck as he released inside of him. Barry writhed and clenched, milking Len’s cock as it jerked.

“S’fine, don’t pull out, just--!” Barry had one hand working his cock while the other pinched at his nipple. Len thrust forward one last time, then mouthed at Barry’s neck and dropped one hand to stuff three fingers into Barry as his spent cock slipped out. Barry shouted as Len rubbed firm, tight circles against his prostate and pushed his thumb against his taint, and started to shoot over his chest and abs, each pump of his own hand from the base to the tip of his cock causing more come to ooze out. 

Len slumped sideways, head lolling against Barry’s knee, which was still perched on his shoulder. Meanwhile, between the open-mouthed panting, the red, splotchy flush over his face and chest, the come dripping down to the crease between his abdomen and thighs, and Len’s come seeping out of him and onto the leather seat (forget what Lisa said, he was never getting rid of this car), Barry looked like he’d been thoroughly ravaged.

“Oh baby,” Len said, smirking tiredly and letting his eyes slip closed as his boyfriend shook with silent laughter beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay getting this chapter up -- the week got away from me, and I only just had the chance to sit down and look this over. Hopefully the fact that it's the longest part by far makes up for it? 
> 
> It's not terribly kinky, but by this point I was beginning to chafe a little at how domestically blissful everything was. You can't have a superhero and a villain pairing up without some tension underneath. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	6. Jock Strap

+1

Barry zipped his backpack up and slung it over one shoulder as behind him Joe and Iris shared disbelieving looks.

“I can’t believe he’s finally moving out,” Iris said.

“You know I haven’t lived here in almost two years, right?” Barry asked.

“After all this time,” Joe said, ignoring Barry. “He’s finally ready to leave the nest.”

“Ugh, you guys. You’ve been to my apartment,” Barry said, pushing past them to head downstairs.

“No, I’ve been to your apartment _building_. For some strange reason you’ve never invited me up,” Iris said, mischief in her voice.

“The reason is you’re judge-y and you’ll judge my furniture and decor,” Barry said.

“Would we call it ‘decor’?” Iris asked.

“You’re judging it and you’ve never even seen it!”

“So you admit I haven’t been to your apartment,” Iris said triumphantly. “Journalist-ed”.

“What am I even going to do with your room? Home gym? Study?” Joe mused. Barry laughed.

“Guys. _Two years_.”

“Uh-huh,” Joe shot him a wry look, “Where do you do your laundry?”

“What’s the billing address on all your credit cards?” Iris chimed in.

Joe: “Who gets all your junk mail and jury duty summonses?”

Iris: “How many pairs of sweatpants do you keep here?”

“None! Anymore,” Barry said. “But points taken.” He looked around the entry way. Of course it looked exactly the same, but he let himself accept that they were right -- in a lot of ways he’d been keeping one foot in the West family home since college. His and Len’s place was going to be it for him now. 

“Oh my god where am I going to lounge in sweatpants watching Saturday morning cartoons? Who’s going to make me soup when I get sick? Where do I buy Christmas decorations?”

Joe and Iris grinned identical West grins at him. Iris counted off on her fingers: “Your apartment; the good people at the Campbell’s soup factory; basically anywhere starting October 15th.”

Barry swallowed. “Len and I are going to be living together, _really_ living together, all the time. Where do I go if I want some alone time? Or if we fight?”

“Here,” Joe said.

“Dad--” Iris started.

“I’m not trying to get him to move back in, but he’s right, sometimes even when you love someone you need a bit of time away. And when that happens you are always welcome here, as long as the drama stays outside of the house and you accept that I’m not going to lie to your partner about where you are. That goes for both of you, by the way,” Joe said, nudging Iris on the shoulder. 

“If a girl could get a date,” Iris muttered. 

“Yeah, let’s stop talking about me living at home forever and start talking about Iris’ dry spell!” Barry said. Iris glared at him, then smirked and suddenly darted out a pinching hand.

“Ah, god! How do you always find the nipple?!” Barry whined, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s a gift,” Iris said breezily. She grabbed her purse off the side table, pecked Joe on the cheek, and continued, “I’ll see you Friday for dinner at your new place. Dad -- don’t forget what we talked about.”

Barry waited until he heard the sound of her car engine starting before he turned back to Joe. “What did you two talk about?”

“You, what else?” Joe said, rolling his eyes, “That’s the only thing I ever talk about with you two -- whichever one of you isn’t currently present.”

Barry grinned, “She and I talk behind your back when we’re alone, too.” He shrugged exaggeratedly. “Family!”

Joe cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Speaking of, son, we should talk.”

“Wait--” Barry looked around confusedly-- “Cop Dad? Am I getting Cop Dad right now?”

Joe sighed. “I’m going to talk to Leonard in person on Friday, but I wanted to tell you while we’re alone that I regret how things went down last month.”

“‘You regret how things went down’? Or ‘You’re sorry for your actions’?”

Joe winced and offered him a pained smile. “Can’t it be both?”

“It caaaannn...”

“I’m sorry for my actions,” Joe said dutifully, but the look on his face wasn’t just Cop Dad sternness -- Barry could tell that he meant it. Joe was terrible at faking sincerity. 

“Oh. Well, thanks. That’s really all I needed,” Barry said.

“Yeah, I figured. You’ve always had a big heart. Leonard’s the one I’m concerned about,” Joe said.

“You kind of already had the cards stacked against you there,” Barry said.

“Right,” Joe sighed, then turned to pick up the bag of left-overs he’d been packing for Barry while Barry grabbed the last few things from his room. “For the record, I still don’t get you two. But--” he held up a hand to forestall Barry’s interjection-- “I will accept that it’s what you want, and maybe in time...” 

Barry watched him visibly struggle to admit that maybe one day he would approve of his and Leonard’s relationship.

“...Events will transpire,” Joe finished, lamely. Another day Barry might have pressed him further, but honestly this was already so much more support than he anticipated he would get from Joe.

“He _is_ on the straight-and-narrow, now,” Barry pointed out. “Well, the straight-and-narrow-enough-not-to-include-crimes-above-a-misdemeanor-level.”

“Yes, it’s a great comfort to me that he passed the reins of his criminal empire on to his sister, with whom he still communicates regularly,” Joe said.

“He also does the time travel thing,” Barry said.

“Any confirmation yet on whether or not that’s actually real?” Joe asked skeptically.

“Yeah, no. None whatsoever. Apparently I’m so important to the timeline that I’m not even allowed to _see_ their timeship,” Barry complained.

“Convenient,” Joe said.

“Right? For all I know, every once in a while Len and the White Canary and Dr. Stein take a spa week.”

“‘Crisis averted! Timeline restored! Don’t ask me about my glowing complexion!’” Joe mimed, and the two of them dissolved into giggles.

After a beat Joe shook his head and handed the bag with the Tupperware to Barry. “Our lives are very strange. I blame you.”

Barry took the bag and nodded. “That’s fair. See you Friday!”

\-------

Barry had just hung up the last cardigan from the backpack when he heard the lock on the front door.

“Len, guess what?” He called, making his way down the hall to the small entryway. “I got the rest of my clothes from Joe’s, and I unpacked my last box from the old apartment this morning! No more boxes!”

“ _Wellll_...” As soon as he heard the prevarication Barry Flashed the rest of the way to the still-swinging-open front door, only to see Len standing just outside. Holding a box.

“Are you for real right now?” Barry moved backward to hold the door open for his boyfriend and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad box.

“You won’t have to help unpack this,” Len said, leaning over as he passed to peck Barry on the lips (which Barry begrudgingly allowed). “Chances are we won’t even be keeping most of it, s’just a buncha junk from the old house.”

“Your dad’s place?” Barry asked, frowning, as he closed the door and followed Len into the family room. “I thought you said Lisa was donating everything.”

“She is, but she found some items that she thought might hold... _sentimental value_. And it was my grandpa’s house, by the way. Dad--” Len said the word with the same amount of scorn he always reserved for his father-- “Could never have gotten a mortgage loan without Grandpa Snart’s name on the application.”

Barry was only sort of paying attention to what Len was saying as the other man set the box down with a heavy _'Thunk!’_ next to the coffee table because honestly as soon as he’d heard the word ‘sentiment’ Barry’d started imaging baby pictures and stuffed animals and--

“Is that a whoopee cushion?”

“Hah!” Len snaked his hand into the box and plucked the rubber scrap from where it was pinned under some books. “Ol’ faithful. Confiscated 12 times by substitute teachers; reclaimed 12 times from the principal’s office.”

Barry rolled his eyes fondly. “Wow, I didn’t realize I was dating the legendary badass of Danville Elementary School.”

Len chuckled and tossed the cushion down on one end of the couch. “That’ll be the Toss pile.”

“Wait, what?” Barry snatched it right back up. “You’re just going to throw it out?”

“Yes, Barry. It’s literally trash. Probably doesn’t even inflate anymore.”

“But! Memories...” Barry trailed off sadly.

“M’gonna revise my earlier statement: not only do you not _have_ to help me unpack this, you are not _allowed_ to help me unpack this. We’ll end up keeping everything.”

“Counter-offer--” Barry started.

“Nope,” Len interrupted. “You go start making dinner, I’ll go through this quickly and have it all cleared up by the time you’re through.”

“Fine,” Barry sighed, zipping into the kitchen. It was only separated from the family room by a long bar with a tiled countertop, so he could still watch Len unpack. “But I want stories!”

“I think you’re over-estimating the value of the junk in here. Lisa just grabbed some stuff out of my old room; she was barely ten when I moved out, I doubt even she could identify things I actually cared about.”

Barry studiously rifled through his Mom’s old accordion file of recipes (even though he knew exactly where the card with the details of her meatloaf was) just so that he could look extra nonchalant while he asked, “Then how come you didn’t go through the stuff with her?” 

The sounds of Len rustling and sorting through the box stopped, which meant he’d probably paused to shoot Barry some sort of look, but Barry wasn’t letting him get away with that this time -- he just turned away to start pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Finally Len cleared his throat a little and the rustling resumed.

“I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to go back there once I got out, and there was nothing in that house valuable enough for me to break that promise. Took all the good stuff with me when I cut out, anyway.”

Barry didn’t want to press him further, so instead of following up with more questions he busied himself with setting out the eggs and the breadcrumbs. Len resumed poking around in the box, and for a while they worked quietly, each going about his own task but comfortable with the presence of the other. 

“What are you smiling about?” Len asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Whoops, he was definitely grinning while he combined the raw meat with the egg yolks, so that probably looked pretty unnerving. “It’s nice, is all. The new place. Us.” 

He expected a quip or a teasing smirk, but Len ducked his head down and smiled the sweet, genuine smile that always made Barry melt. 

“Yeah,” Len said. “Agreed.” 

“Soooo,” Barry said, patting the mixture into a ball so that he could scoop it into the loaf pan. “What’ve you found?”

“Baseball cards I stole from one of the guys Lisa’s mom dated on the side; a journal I stole from the bully on our block who teased my friend Jenny for keeping a diary because it was quote ‘girly’; an art history text book from my high school library that I guess technically I stole because I sure didn’t go back to return my books when I dropped out.”

“I’m a sensing a theme,” Barry teased.

“How about this? Definitely not stolen.” Len hoisted a black duffel bag with dark blue straps that was covered in dust.

“Oh gross, make sure not to put that on the upholstery,” Barry said, then, under his breath, “Oh my god when did I become Joe?”

Len carefully unzipped the duffel and dumped the contents on the floor before tossing the empty bag back into the cardboard box. Barry couldn’t see over the back of the couch what exactly had fallen out.

“My hockey stuff,” Len said by way of explanation. He actually looked a little excited, the nerd.

“Yeah? You played?” Barry asked.

“All four years of high school. Well, the three-and-a-half I was there. Some of the guys on the varsity team responsible for recruiting for the freshman team heard I’d been in juvie over the summer. Assumed I’d be a real--”

“Mick?” Barry asked.

“Pretty much,” Len smirked. “Course when I was fourteen I was roughly the size of a larger-than-average third grader, so they had to deal with that disappointment. Lucky for them I was agile and wily, and by my sixteenth birthday I'd gotten my growth spurt.”

Barry beamed and asked, indulgently, “So what’s in the bag?”

Len hummed thoughtfully and crouched to sort through the contents. “Helmet, gloves, shin guards. I pawned my skates for cash right before I moved out. Stick tape, jock strap, where’s my jersey...?”

“Uhhh...” Barry stood in the middle of the kitchen, oven mitts on and loaf pan held loosely against his chest. “Jock strap?”

“I was poor, remember? Couldn’t really afford all the fancy gear with the pads and the insulation and the shorts with the cup built in.”

“Right, that’s...” Barry knew his eyes were glazing over, but he couldn’t help it. Dressing and undressing for gym class in high school had been a nightmare; half because of his scrawny insecure self, half because of the decidedly un-scrawny guys from the baseball team who somehow all had lockers around Barry the year he’d realized that maybe he liked boys in addition to girls (well, in addition to Iris). 

“Barry!” Len called. Barry jerked out of his reverie and realized the oven was beeping shrilly to indicate it was at temperature. When he straightened back up from putting the meatloaf in to cook Len looked like the cat that got the canary. Barry sighed heavily as Len waltzed over to the kitchen, spinning the black supporter on one index finger.

“So,” Len drawled. “Care to explain?”

Barry rolled his eyes and leaned back to avoid getting jock-slapped. “There’s nothing to explain; you’re gay, you remember what high school was like. Gym. Locker rooms. Awkward erections.”

“Hmm, I dunno. I was never into the jocks. Preferred me some nerds. Remind me how long that takes to cook?”

Barry blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Like 40 minutes, why?”

Len stepped into his space and wrapped his arms around his waist, then leaned in to nose at the sensitive skin behind Barry’s ear.

“Oh-ohhh,” Barry groaned appreciatively, leaning into Len’s chest as he began to kiss and nip at the spot. “Wait, should we? When the oven is on?”

“Come on, Barry,” Len murmured, the pitch of his voice deeper than usual. Barry could feel the rumbling echo of it where their chests were pressed together. Len’s hands pushed up to briefly massage at his shoulders, then trailed down his arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Don’t you want to get your _mitts_ on me?”

Barry squawked and shoved Len in the middle of his chest. The older man laughed helplessly and held up his hands to defend himself. “I’m not even sorry!”

“Are you serious?!” Barry shook his head, but he was toeing the line between exasperation and amusement. “All that for a pun!” He huffed and pulled off the oven mitts, slapping one of them against Len’s ass (the man was now braced on the counter trying to calm his laughter).

Abruptly Len turned so that he was leaning back on both elbows. He looked Barry up and down, clearly considering his next words carefully. Finally he said, “In all seriousness, I probably still fit in that jock.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Just sayin’.” Len studied the ceiling, looking unusually coy. Shy? Nervous?

“Is that-- is that an offer?” Barry husked. 

“Well you do wear all those nice things for me,” Len said, heat in his eyes. Barry struggled to swallow with his suddenly dry mouth.

“Go put it on,” Barry said. “In three minutes I’m coming into that bedroom, and you’re going to sit on my face.”

Len grabbed a fistful of Barry’s shirt and tugged him into a brutal kiss, their tongues twining and pushing against one another, both of them breathing harshly in pants in between the slick, hot meetings of lips already red and swollen from nips and stubble. When they finally broke apart, panting, Len was grinning and his bottom lip was split open on the side. Barry watched hungrily as Len’s tongue darted out to lick over the small hurt. 

Barry watched Len walk away and willed himself not to let the fear of burning the apartment down stop him from enjoying the perverted high school fantasy sex he was about to have. He looked anxiously at the timer -- 34 minutes left -- and palmed absently at the erection tenting his sweatpants. 

When the timer read 31 minutes he dashed to the bedroom and slowly pushed the door open.

Len was wearing the same soft navy sweater he’d had on before, but his pants were off and he was wearing the jock and looking at himself contemplatively in the full-length mirror. It was a simple black supporter, and from Barry’s vantage point at the door he could see both the front of Len reflected in the mirror, his semi already distending the fabric of the pouch, as well as his naked ass framed by elastic straps running up to his hips to connect to the band.

Barry walked up behind him and nuzzled the back of his neck, kissing the knobs of his spine and slipping one arm around to sneak up the front of his sweater while the other hand dropped to cop a squeeze of one cheek. Their eyes met in the mirror as Barry slid that hand down along the strap to where it met the pouch. He rubbed two fingers firmly up behind Len’s balls, massaging against his taint through the fabric while letting his thumb rest directly against Len’s clenched hole.

“J-Jesus, Barry,” Len squeezed his eyes shut as his knees buckled and he leaned back against Barry’s chest. Barry tightened his hold on Len’s front, squeezing and kneading at his right pectoral muscle. Len moaned throatily and tried to arch his back to get closer to where Barry’s hand was now cupping and and gently rolling his balls. 

Barry kissed and nipped at Len’s ear. “Did what I said before sound good?” He asked. “Or do you want something else? Want me to fuck you?”

Len was always happy to talk about what he was going to do to Barry, or to suss out (in filthy detail) exactly what Barry wanted, but he was often reluctant to voice his own desires. Barry knew it was mostly because Len enjoyed the things Barry came up with, but sometimes he feared it was because his older boyfriend still wasn’t comfortable being vulnerable in front of him.

He continued kissing and nipping along Len’s jaw, eventually using the hand he’d had on his chest to turn the other man’s head into a kiss. When he pulled back he whispered against Len’s lips, “You know what was so incredibly hot? Watching you eat me out, after that meta changed my body.”

“Mmmm,” Len hummed against his mouth, “I still think about that too.”

“It felt amazing, babe,” Barry said, moving both hands to Len’s hips so he could shift his still-clothed erection against the swell of Len’s ass. “But the way you looked between my legs, all desperate and horny like _you_ were the one with a tongue in his pussy? That’s what I can’t get out of my head.”

Len shivered and pulled away, but it was just to turn in Barry’s arms so that they could rut against one another for a hot second. “We’ll do it like you said before, then,” Len growled into the charged space between their panting mouths. “How do you want me?” 

“Hands-and-knees on the bed,” Barry didn’t hesitate, “Facing the foot.” Len pulled his sweater off over his head as he followed Barry’s directions, and Barry quickly stripped off his shirt and sweatpants. 

“Thought you said something about me sitting on your face?” Len asked, rocking forward on his hands so that he could press a smacking kiss against the skin beneath Barry’s navel. Barry giggled at the sensation (and the sound), and softly ran his hands over Len’s head. He cupped Len’s jaw with one hand.

“Do you want that? Would you be comfortable in that position?” Len’s eyes cut away, and Barry could see his Adam’s apple bob. “Hands-and-knees is good,” Barry said reassuringly. “Watching you fall apart _is_ one of my favorite things, but at this point I can imagine it pretty well, too. Although...”

He walked back a couple of paces and grabbed the side of the mirror to cant it slightly so that Len would be able to see himself from where he was on the bed. “Somebody should get to enjoy the show,” Barry said.

As he hopped onto the bed behind Len, Len grumbled, “Must think I’m some kind of narcissist.” Barry snickered and slapped Len once on the ass, not hard, but enough to make a very satisfying noise. 

“The indignity,” Len said.

“What was that?” Barry asked, palming both of Len’s ass cheeks appreciatively.

“Thank you, Sir, may I have another?” Len drawled. 

Barry grinned and leaned down, gripping one of the jock’s elastic straps in each fist and tugging Len toward him so that the man went down onto his elbows. The new position forced his back into a more pronounced slope, and tilted his ass up so that his cheeks were parted. 

“Do you want me to touch you,” Barry breathed, mouth hovering over Len’s hole. Len had thoughtfully tossed the lube onto the cover, presumably before he’d gotten undressed.

“N-no,” Len was already shuddering just from the hot air and the ghost of lips moving over him. “Not yet.”

Barry pressed a kiss right against Len, humming and darting his tongue out to lick his lips and brush against Len’s opening.

He pulled back, “Worried you won’t be able to focus?”

“Worried I’ll come too soon and then be too embarrassed to ever do anything like this again,” Len mumbled.

“Why are you embarrassed? Stop trying to make my weird high school hang ups all about you,” Barry teased. Len chuckled and adjusted himself on his elbows, causing his shoulder blades to shift like a cat. “Besides, why be embarrassed when you look... _so good_.”

Barry ran one hand up over Len’s flank, then curled his fingers around the waistband of the jock. With his other hand he palmed Len’s right cheek then held it aside so that he could lick directly against Len’s hole. The other man jerked, so Barry unfolded the hand in the jock to instead grip Len’s hipbone, but he didn’t stop moving his tongue against him. He let the saliva collect in his mouth then laved his tongue in slow undulations against the furled muscle until gradually it began to give and Len began to relax. Len’s face was pushed against his forearm, and normally Barry would chide him for muffling the sounds he was making, but on a night like tonight, when Len was letting himself be more exposed than usual, Barry decided not to push.

Barry groaned at the musky taste and smell of his lover, and pressed his face more tightly against the other man, letting the moist, hot air from his exhalations puff against Len’s drawn-up balls. He pulled back slightly and slid his right thumb to Len’s hole, testing the resistance and then groaning as the tip slid against Len’s rim and pressed inside. Len moaned and shook as Barry’s thumb sank inside of his spit-slick, worked-open hole. While his thumb prodded and teased around the rim, Barry grabbed for the lube. He didn’t necessarily love the taste, but he wanted this to be nothing but good for Len, and chafing from getting fingered dry was not so good.

“I’m just going to open you up a bit,” He said, withdrawing his thumb to lube up his fingers, and watching as Len’s hole spasmed at the loss. He quickly dropped his other hand to grip tightly at the base of his own cock; the sight of Len’s hungry body filled Barry with all sorts of dark, possessive longings. Made him want to burry himself inside of Len until the man couldn’t deny that they belonged to each other. Made him want to take the man apart until he was a sobbing, vulnerable wreck, the way Barry got sometimes. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing those thoughts away. Below him Len shifted so that he could look over his shoulder at Barry.

“Everything okay back there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Barry rasped, shaking his head. “Just worried about the meatloaf.”

Len smiled (the good smile where his eyes got all crinkly), shifted and braced his weight on his knees, then lifted himself up so that he was leaning back against Barry’s torso. He pressed a kiss to the side of Barry’s chin and said, “The meatloaf is going to be great. All your family recipes are great.” He lowered himself back down, this time folding his arms in front of him and resting his head pillowed on them. “It’s part of what gives me hope for our--” he cut himself off.

Barry felt a shock of warmth in his chest. He returned his slicked-up hand to Len’s opening and circled two fingers around it before slowly working them inside of him. “Hope for our what?” he asked.

“ _Ngh_ \-- Barry, there,” Len said, arching himself back into Barry’s fingers (and clearly not intending to answer Barry’s question). Barry slowly repeated the same motion: pushing two fingers deep into Len’s body, spreading them out and bringing them back together, then curling them down against his prostate and dragging them back out. After four or five of those Len was trembling all over, and Barry could see moisture clinging to his eyelashes.

“Think I’m gonna milk you later,” Barry murmured. “After you come. You’ll be able to give me another orgasm, right?” He asked, then leaned down to lick and trace over his own fingers where they were buried inside of Len.

“Ah!” Len cried out, and his hips thrust forward in an aborted motion. Barry slid his other hand around to palm over Len’s still-covered erection and gasped at how soaked the cotton stretched over Len’s cock had become. “Barry, please! Touch-- you can touch me now,” Len growled, rocking his hips back to meet Barry’s fingers and tongue. 

Barry pulled the fingers out of Len. “Gimme your left hand,” he instructed, and once Len reached back he guided it so that he was holding himself open on that side. Barry kept his right cheek spread with one hand, and reached under with his other to slide beneath the fabric of the pouch and get a tight grip on Len’s sack.

Len writhed and moaned, his whole body bucking back into Barry’s controlling hold. “Look at the mirror,” Barry said.

“I-I--”

“ _Look_ ,” Barry grit out, moving the hand on Len’s balls to grip and stroke over his shaft. Len cried out and lifted his head from where he’d had his forehead pressed to the comforter to take in the sight in the mirror.

“Keep your eyes on that until you come,” Barry ordered, letting some of the authority he usually reserved for being the Flash to color his tone. He dropped his head and pulled Len’s cheek even wider out to the side, then slid his tongue inside as deep as it could go, still stroking over Len’s cock.

“Barry!” Len twisted and rubbed his ass back against Barry’s face as Barry continued thrusting and swirling his tongue deep into his body, rubbing against the muscles inside before pulling out to flick and nip at his puffy rim. He snuck a glance up at Len and saw with a burst of satisfaction that Len was watching himself in the mirror just as Barry had asked. From this angle all he could see was Len’s mouth hanging slack, and the side of the bed reflected in the mirror. But Len would be able to see the two of them, together, his own face as he lost every bit of his composure under Barry’s ministrations. Maybe even Barry’s hungry gaze as he watched him lose that composure.

Barry gripped Len’s cock and mercilessly rubbed his thumb back and forth over the dripping, sensitive head, returning to tongue relentlessly at Len’s hole. Len jerked once, twice, then let out an almost agonized cry as he came, coating Barry’s hand and filling the jock with his hot release. Not missing a beat Barry pulled back, grabbed Len’s waistband, and hauled him over so that he was on his back, head hanging off the end of the bed and body spread-eagle.

Len was still twitching and breathing heavily, flushed all the way down to his navel, so when Barry plunged two fingers back inside of him he nearly sat all the way up in shock before falling back bonelessly and writhing.

“B--Babe, I can’t, s’too much,” Len slurred, hips making small motions like he was trying to escape. Barry ignored him; he’d done this before, and Len always delivered like a champ. 

Barry wrapped one hand around his own dick -- _finally_ \-- and beat off like this was the last chance he was going to get. He moved his fingers quickly, but steadily in Len, each firm rub against his prostate causing another glob of spend to ooze out of the tip of Len’s cock where it was trapped beneath the waistband of the jock. Len was quivering and when he shifted his head to stare sightlessly up at Barry a tear tracked from the corner of his eye down toward his ear -- he looked totally overwhelmed. Barry vibrated his fingers and pressed them directly against his prostate, and Len cried out brokenly and arched as he came again.

After a second of watching Len’s desperate pleasure Barry choked and started to come, too, hand flying over his cock as jizz fell on his fist and striped Len’s thigh and over the black fabric of the jock strap. Barry was still kneeling over Len, and still hard, but it would go down in a second; he was exhausted and more than a little out of breath from the rimming. Just as his eyes slipped closed a hand planted itself on his chest and pushed him back against the pillows.

“Len, wha--?!” But Len was already ducking down and taking the head of Barry’s cock into his mouth. “AH, Jesus! Len!” 

The other man didn’t bother with anything fancy, just gripped the base of Barry’s dick and sucked, hollow-cheeked at Barry’s head. Barry shook, not sure if he was vibrating or just that tired, and ran his hands shockily over Len’s head and the nape of his neck. Just as he felt his second orgasm rising Len withdrew, kissing sloppily against his slit and letting Barry’s come gush over his lips and chin. Barry’s eyes rolled back in his head and his last crazy thought before he passed out was that he was melting. 

\-------

Shrill beeping caused Barry to jerk awake.

“The meatloaf--!”

“Is fine,” Len called from the bathroom. Barry could hear running water, and he was still slumped against the pillows, so he couldn’t have been out that long.

Len reentered the room dressed in a pair of boxers and a white cotton t-shirt. He tossed a washcloth onto Barry’s chest. “I took out the meatloaf five minutes ago, that’s just the timer for letting it rest,” he said. 

“How long was I under?” Barry asked.

Len smiled as he started going through the dresser and setting out sleep clothes for Barry. “12 minutes. You gave me a vibrating rimjob, wrung me dry, and then passed out. And to think that I was the one accused of making things all about me.”

Barry smiled wryly and rubbed a hand over his (extremely messy) hair. “I was gonna make mashed potatoes,” he said.

“Yeah, I saw that you set that recipe out, too. You’ll have to settle for instant,” Len said, leaning over to kiss Barry’s forehead.

Barry’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “I can’t believe you made me buy powdered potatoes,” he groused.

“Hey now. They’re a Snart family classic, and I doctor them up pretty fancy. You won’t even know the difference.” Barry wrapped his arms around Len’s waist before he could get away.

“Doubtful.” He rubbed his nose against the trail of hair low on Len’s belly. “That was fun,” He smiled up at his boyfriend.

“It was,” Len grinned, “I feel like we really get each other now, after all those times with the panties. We’ve walked a mile in each other’s underwear fetish.”

Barry laughed and clung on tighter, burying his face in Len’s stomach. “I’m happy,” he said, then swallowed. “You’re happy, right?”

Len shrugged and affected an air of indifference, “I’m fine.”

Barry narrowed his eyes. Len dropped a hand to cup his face and rub a thumb over one cheekbone.

“I’m happy,” Len said, quietly. “And you should feel free to remind me of that the next time I start freaking out about being in an actual adult relationship.”

Barry huffed and turned his face into Len’s palm. “Will do.”

“I mean it. Really rub my nose in it,” Len said. He drew Barry up with hands beneath his elbows, and they kissed until the oven let out one of its angry, periodic beeps to remind them the timer had run out. 

“Get dressed,” Len called over one shoulder as he trotted out to the kitchen.

\-------

The instant mashed potatoes were delicious, and when Len made them again for family dinner on Friday (at Barry’s request) nobody knew the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! Sorry again for the delay; with NaNo starting on Tuesday, today was my first chance to work on something else.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and if so, please let me know in the comments!


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